Circles
by MagentaQuinn
Summary: The Boosh Band is actually popular. Cue the groupies... and homophobic rumours. Oneshot.


Vince didn't like the position. The man he met at the club said "It's not gay if you don't make eye contact." Or something like that, the man couldn't make coherent words. So he bent Vince over a bin out back of the club, and they went at it.

This was the only fix he could get. It seemed that every time someone new listened to them, a new person with a camera followed him around, and a new picture appeared online of him flirting with some guy. That guy was usually Howard, yet Howard never fucked him in the dirty alley behind a club.

He got his driver to drive him back to his flat, which was right across from Howard's. Howard could see into Vince's bedroom, because they couldn't stand being apart.

His coat was on the couch, his shoes were under the coffee table, and everything but his pants were on the coffee table. Howard always came over in the morning and cleaned up after him.

Vince padded softly into the bedroom, and waved out his window, where he knew Howard was watching. No matter how late Vince stayed up, Howard was always waiting for him to make sure he was safe.

The ringtone of 'Cars' by Gary Numan rang through his bedroom. "You don't look well, Vince."

"What ever happened to 'hello'?"

"I'm sorry, but there's more things to worry about."

"I know." Vince sighed, laying down on his bed. "It happened again."

"It's got to stop, Vince."

"Yeah right!"

"Vince, there are plenty of gay comedians in the modern world. Just come out!"

"You don't understand, Howard. You're the only one I've ever told!"

"Vince, you're crying."

"I know." He sniffled. "Can you come over?"

"I'm heading to the kitchen to get your Nutella now."

Vince smiled. He wasn't trusted with Nutella in his own flat. "Thank you."

"What do you want DVD wise?"

"Bob Ross."

"Joy of Painting it is, then." Howard laughed to himself. "It's mesmerizing just watching him paint. You as well. You're a lot better, because you don't talk. It's like a film. I couldn't do it even if I tried."

"Don't say that, Howard. He didn't like that. Everyone has talent. You haven't set your mind to painting, but you've set your mind to being a musical genius!"

"Thanks. I'm going to hang up now so I can go into your building-"

"NO! Stay on the phone with me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm lonely and I just got fucked in the ass by a stranger who might have AIDS and that's always a possibility and it always freaks me out, and I really just need to settle down, but I can't."

"Why can't you settle down?"

"Because the one guy that I've wanted to settle down with doesn't know it yet. And he doesn't even know he's gay. But I know e is. I know he's my match. It's just like Aristophanes said Howard. My soul mate."

"And you've met him?"

"Yeah." Vince sighed as Howard walked in his bedroom. "I'm not in the mood for Bob Ross anymore. You know?"

"Nope." Howard sat on the bed lightly.

"Well, I said AIDS, and the. I thought if Rent, and then I thought if Angel, and I'm just not in the mood for dead people or I'll cry."

"Good enough." He smiled as he passed Vince the bag of plastic spoons. "Have you thought about telling your soul mate how you feel?"

"Of course I have. He just won't return the feelings."

"Vince." Howard sighed, scooting back against the pillows. Vince rested his head against Howard's shoulder, and ate some of the Nutella. "You've got to stop being so self conscious."

"I'm not self conscious any more, Howard! I have a healthy weight! You can hardly see my ribs anymore!"

"Shh." Howard stroked Vince's feathered hair. "Let's not get into that subject tonight. It's too late, and I'm not in the mood to cry with you."

"Like you ever cry."

"Vince. It tears me apart each time that I'm forced to see a photo of you when you had the eating disorders. When I see you with your shirt off, and I can count your ribs. And it tears me apart to see you cry."

"I don't want to see you cry Howard." Vince nuzzled so close to Howard that the only thing they could hear was their breathing. Vince's ear was pressed to Howard's bare neck, and he could hear Howard's pulse. "What do you think he'd say if I went for it? If I asked him?"

"He'd say yes. Any sane man on earth would say yes."

"Would . . ." Vince coughed awkwardly. "Would *you* say yes?"

"I..."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't put that pressure on you. I'm just really worried."

"You shouldn't be." He leaned his head against Vince's and started to sing. "Short steps, deep breath. Everything is alright. Chin up, I can't step into the spotlight. He said, 'I'm sad,' somehow without any words. I just stood there searching for an answer."

"Shut up. I'm not in the mood for you to sing. Your voice is like a fine wine, if you have to much of it, you get drunk and do something you'll regret."

Howard smiled, dabbing at the muddy tears running down Vince's face. "You need a shower. Wash off all the filth."

"Yes sir." He kissed Howard's cheek sloppily and made his way to the bathroom.

"Leave the door open! I don't want you pulling anything!"

"I haven't thrown up in two years Howard."

"I still want the door open."

"Fine," Vince sighed.

Howard smiled as it worked again. He wasn't concerned about Vince's disorders. He could see Vince from the mirror on the door. In truth, Howard was about ninety five percent sure that Vince knew Howard was watching, and he put on a show. Vince had always been a little exabitionist.

He got out of the shower an wrapped a towel around his waist.

"Dry your hair."

"Yes sir," Vince muttered playfully, an closed the door. He hated anyone seeing the process of his hair.

After about thirty minutes, he trotted out with his hair all ready for him to sleep.

"I don't understand why you won't let me see you do your hair. I've seen pretty much everything else!"

"But my hair is the only secret I have left." He grinned, and sat Indian style on the bed. "Go brush you teethsies. You're sleeping over here."

"Well I figured I was, it's two in he morning." He walked into the bathroom, turned the ht water on, and soaked his brush.

He didn't notice the message written in sloppy handwriting in the mirror.

Howard - circle y or n

Would u lik 2 go on a d8 with me?!

Yes No

When he noticed the message, the toothbrush fell out of his mouth. It seemed fitting. Vince had the mind of a ten year old, and it was just like they were passing notes. Howard circled 'Yes', and finished his teeth.

Vince smiled at him when he walked out. "Did you use hot water?"

"What kind of fool uses cold water?"

"Did you . . . see anything interesting?"

"Yes, well, I saw your lovely drawing of a dragon you did above your tub since the last time I saw you, the new drawing of a cat, and some graffiti on the mirror that wasn't done in Sharpie."

"Did you, I dunno, contribute to it?"

"Just a bit. I drew a circle around a word."

Vince finally put his head in head in his hands. "You're killing me Howard, what did you circle?"

Howard sat very lightly on the bed, and crawled over to Vince. Howard put his lip to Vince's ear, causing goosebumps on the both of them. "J'ai encerclé bien sûr."

"That's no fair. Non or oui are the only words I know . . ."

"Vince, I just whispered something in French. What the hell do you think I circled?"

"Hoping it's a yes."

"Of course a yes you little tart." Howard pecked Vince quickly on the lips. "No go to sleep."

"Like I can sleep with you in my bed." Vince giggled like a school girl. "I always wear a Johnny when I hook up with random guys. I don't have any diseases. I'm completely clean. In two ways. I er, I douched in the shower."

"I know. I could see."

Vince gasped. "You dirty old man! That's why you want the door open!"

"Like you don't put on a show for me."

"Alright, truce." Vince grinned, nuzzling into the crook of Howard's neck. Howard wrapped his big strong arms around Vince, and in that moment, the world was perfect.


End file.
